


Wet Workouts at the Jedi Academy

by Lilith Sedai (TAFKAB)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, M/M, Swimming, Titles are hard, and it shows, i dunno, if it isn't I don't want to know what was, is this not the worst story title I ever perpetrated?, locker room cruelty between boys, this was like one of my first big slash stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAB/pseuds/Lilith%20Sedai
Summary: Obi-Wan progresses through childhood to manhood in the pool at the Jedi Academy.  (An old story)





	Wet Workouts at the Jedi Academy

**Author's Note:**

> Though Obi-Wan begins as a minor, he is of legal age by the time any sexual activity or desire occurs in the story-the youthful interludes are about his building a bond of friendship, respect, and a student/teacher relationship with Qui-Gon that will serve as a precursor for their later sexual relationship. There is some implication of standard locker room harassment (some with slight sexual overtones) by minors to minors, but no sexual activity between them.
> 
> Acknowledgments: Thanks to Treemonisha for the idea of the creche!

\--OBI-WAN: FIVE YEARS--

The tall, slender Jedi Master assigned to supervise the creche this day moved between the children's narrow cots, handing out daily assignment cards.

Young Obi-Wan Kenobi nearly burst with pride when he realized his workout assignment indicated that he might move from the small, shallow pools where the children splashed and played to the deep one where the big boys and girls learned workout routines. He had noticed Master Yoda standing near the pool one day the previous month, surveying the students. An idea had struck him, and instead of splashing and tossing about the brightly colored, inflated balls of soft plastic, he had sat by himself in the corner and moved his arms and legs in the motions of the workout the older boys did in the next pool. He had done the same for a month, and at least twice Yoda had appeared and watched him for the remainder of the session without comment. Today, his determination had paid off.

"Get your swimsuit, Obi-Wan!" His friend Don'Ca tossed the ball to him and he caught it reflexively between his palms, not even flinching. "We're going to play with Shara today. Lorcas says she's going to be his girlfriend--"

"I can't play. I'm going up to the next pool," Obi-Wan explained, and Don'Ca took the card from him, perusing its easily-read pictographs with wide eyes.

"But you can't go there till you're seven!" Don'Ca pronounced the statement with the air of one whose certainty is complete, and Obi-Wan felt the Force stir weakly as his friend tried to make the words real through the strength of his will. He shook his head.

Obi-Wan instinctively turned to authority for assistance, addressing the tall Jedi, who had just finished passing out the cards and stood waiting for the children to leave. "Master Yoda says I may. Doesn't he, Master?" Obi-Wan had not yet learned all the names of the Jedi, but he knew this one was a full Master. There was something about his bearing that would have made it perfectly clear to any observer.

Qui-Gon Jinn looked down to meet the imploring gaze of the tiny boy clutching the printed card in a sweaty grasp. The letters were already smudging under his fingers. The boy was perceptive; the assignment was unsigned, but Yoda himself had insisted that Obi-Wan Kenobi be advanced in spite of his size and age.

Don'Ca did not notice the Master's gaze, looking at Kenobi sullenly, his lower lip protruding. "But, Obi-Wan..."

"You're too small, squirt!" Jac NaHou snatched the card and tossed it away. "You'd drown in the big pool." The six-and-a-half-year-old Bothan was much taller than Obi-Wan, his bathing shorts coming to the middle of his thighs instead of bagging to his knees, as the smaller Human boy's did.

"Judge me by my size, do you?" Obi-Wan flared, perfectly mimicking one of Master Yoda's favorite phrases for recalcitrant pupils. Don'Ca covered his mouth, smothering a laugh, and Jac glowered. Yoda's teachings were not to be disputed.

Qui-Gon reached out with the Force, retrieving the card. The other children noticed his attention at last and stood back, chastened that their behavior had been observed. The Jedi Master nodded gravely at the earnest young boy, lowering the slip of paper so that the child could reach and take it. "Master Yoda has indeed authorized your reassignment," he confirmed. The child barely needed his support, though. He had handled the situation quite well.

"You must go or you'll be late for your new assignment," he reminded the beaming Obi-Wan, and watched as the child, clutching his bathing shorts and his assignment card, led the hasty retreat from the sleeping quarters of the creche.

 

Half an hour later, Obi-Wan was standing on the second-highest of the five broad, tiered steps in the shallow end of the larger pool, nearing the completion of his first seven-to-tens' workout. Master Yoda stood in the observation area, propped on his stick. His face was serene, but his ears were lifted. Obi-Wan stifled a smile and struggled earnestly to fulfill the demands of the older boys' workout. When Yoda's ears were up, the Jedi walked large--but when they lowered, the entire Academy (and some said the Council, too) sneaked around on tiptoe. The Jedi Master who had given him his card entered the room and moved to stand at Yoda's side, taking a moment to scan the room and locate Obi-Wan before bending to address Yoda. Obi-Wan re-doubled his efforts, earnest in his desire to please them, and to become a Jedi.

\--OBI-WAN: SEVEN YEARS--

Standing on tiptoe and taking a towel from the top of the pile, Obi-Wan wrapped it around his waist and tied it securely before dropping his wet bathing shorts into the washing bin. The bigger boys squirmed and shouted around him, jostling him as he moved toward the showers. Being the youngest in his training group, he had soon learned, was a burden as well as a privilege. Both the older boys and the younger boys resented him. And as for the girls--well, Obi-Wan didn't know what he thought of them. They seemed an alien species, and he could hardly believe he hadn't noticed that before. When he had proven himself able to keep up with his elders in the pool, he been fully promoted to the training group, and had moved out of the unisex lodgings in the creche. Now he was beginning to be glad. It was bad enough dressing and showering with the older boys, without having to worry about girls watching him.

He sidestepped a careless swinging elbow, almost losing his balance on the slippery floor. "Use the Force, Obi-Wan," Jac snickered. "A real Jedi trainee doesn't stumble." He punctuated his ridicule with a shove, and Obi-Wan skidded on the wet floor, bruising himself slightly against the wall. He managed to keep his feet. Jac had hated him ever since he was assigned to the seven-to-tens ahead of the older boy. The abuse had begun that very evening, and had only worsened when Jac was promoted to the class himself six months after Obi-Wan. By now it was routine. A sharp clap punctuated the mocking laughter, and the boys fell silent. The padawan assigned to supervise them did not speak, but his clap served as a warning--a verbal reprimand resulted in punishment, usually cleaning or kitchen duty.

Obi-Wan glanced up at the padawan on duty, glad that it was M'Sut and not one of the others, particularly not Naraed. Naraed often let the boys get out of control, not caring to stop their pranks and verbal abuse. Perhaps he thought a Jedi trainee should be able to defend himself--Obi-Wan didn't know. At least Naraed gave no evidence of enjoying the boys' cruelty. Still, if Naraed were present instead of M'Sut, Jac would probably have taken Obi-Wan's towel, and the boys would have laughed and pointed until he could get another one and cover himself, his face scarlet with shame.

Kenobi was very small and whip-slender compared to the others, some of whom were already beginning to grow hair. They would move soon into the young teens' classes, where Naraed and M'Sut now were. Soon they would become padawans. Obi-Wan was thankful that most of them were too dedicated to their training to bother with teasing a youngster. But there were some... he winced. There were some he knew better than to toy with. Jac's anger was justified, in its way, but some of the boys hated for no apparent reason. They had a dark streak in them that frightened Obi-Wan; he couldn't see how it was compatible with what he understood to be the goals of the Jedi. Accordingly, he kept as much distance as possible from them.

In some cases, the boys who frightened Obi-Wan the very most had simply washed out of the Academy. Rumors said they'd simply been invited to leave and offered transport home. Their bunks had been occupied one morning and empty the next. It had happened to some of the nice boys, too, ones who didn't learn their lessons well, or ones who remembered their families too strongly and mourned for them. Sometimes he wondered what would happen to the ones who left, since they couldn't become Jedi. As for himself, he had no idea what life outside the Academy might be like, and he didn't want to know. He had been brought here as a baby, and had no memory of another family. Obi-Wan was content to be where he was in spite of his troubles, sensing somehow that there were trials to be endured no matter where one grew up.

As he moved through the dressing room, Obi-Wan was careful to keep his eyes on his toes, reaching out with his senses to know when to step clear of a classmate or to step lively in order to shield his vulnerable ribs. Reluctantly abandoning his towel on the communal rack, he stepped into the shower, ducking his head under the cold water and scrubbing a handful of soap into his shaggy hair. When he turned ten, his hair would be cut short like a padawan's. When he was chosen by a Master, he could begin to grow the pigtail that indicated his apprentice status. Some padawans were chosen as young as eight, but more were chosen at eleven or at twelve. The eldest ever chosen had been fifteen.

He couldn't wait until a Master chose him and devoted his attention to Obi-Wan's training.

He flinched as a flush was heard and the water stung him, almost scalding for a moment. He had asked the attendant padawan once, in a temper, why the Republic couldn't construct better plumbing for the Jedi Academy. M'Sut had answered him, laughing, saying that the current facilities served two purposes: they encouraged trainees to be aware of the living Force so that they could predict and sidestep the scalding spray... and failing that, they built character.

Obi-Wan stepped out of the shower, a little soap still stinging his eyes, and reached for his towel. He encountered M'Sut's blue, scaly fingers instead. "Jac took your towel and put it in the head," M'Sut handed Obi-Wan a clean, dry towel, and the boy scrubbed water out of his eyes. "If you like, he'll be peeling Sala root in the kitchens for supper tonight."

"That's all right, Padawan," Obi-Wan dried himself quickly. "Thank you. But I do not want to be responsible for causing Jac to feel more anger."

M'Sut nodded slightly, satisfied. "You'll be a fine Jedi someday, trainee. Now get dressed. Lessons are at high, and you just have time to make it to class." Obi-Wan scrambled into his tunic and trousers, still half-wet, and raced out of the door. Behind him, M'Sut smiled.

\--OBI-WAN: TWELVE YEARS--

He had begun to realize that with every advancement in his training, things changed dramatically. The pool itself symbolized the changes. The children's play pool was warm and shallow. The young trainees' pool was graded for height, somewhat deeper, and still warm, but not so warm. Now that he had moved ahead into the next class, he finally stood on the bottom of the larger pool. He had migrated toward the middle. From here the bottom sloped downward with increasing steepness. The apprentices trained at the next depth, and further toward the deep end were the confirmed padawans, under the watchful eyes of their masters. At the extreme end, masters and their older padawans trained together, completely submerged beneath several feet of liquid, or practiced Force-enhanced acrobatics as they leaped from a series of graduated-height diving boards. Obi-Wan wondered if the water at that end of the pool was also colder than it was where he stood, and decided that it probably was.

Where Obi-Wan stood, the water was perhaps four feet deep. Not only that, but it seemed to have become gelid, resisting his motions. The routines, too, had changed. Once he had played, as a child. Then he had done simple aerobics. Here, the routine had grown to include strength training. He pushed hand-paddles through the thick liquid and drew them back, struggling against the consistency of the water. This part of the pool was directly opposite of the observation area. Masters came here to seek for future padawans, to observe the students, to gauge their determination and to estimate their fighting potential.

Obi-Wan knew now that the physical workouts were not merely to pass time and teach coordination, but to build endurance as well. A Jedi might be able to use the Force to lift heavy objects, but when he fought or ran he must not tire. A morning routine was done in the gym, lifting weights, running laps, and playing coordination sports. The evening workout was in the pool, relaxing and tiring the students for bed. At the end of each session, there was free time, which the boys and girls used to organize themselves into competitions. Who could lift the most weights? Who could run the fastest laps? Who could swim the fastest, the farthest, the longest? It all seemed terribly important, for those things were what interested the Masters.

Now they were no longer supervised by Padawans, but by full Jedi. They were old enough to be sorted out into their strengths. Two in Obi-Wan's class had already found Masters. Indeed, the only promotion from this class group was to find a master.

A whistle indicated the end of the strength-workout, and Obi-Wan moved to the edge of the pool. He discarded the paddles and they were gathered up and taken away by a padawan serving pool duty.

"Look!" Jac's voice was an eager, excited whisper. The boy was already thirteen, and had not yet found a Master. His continued solitude had sobered him, prompting him to mend his ways, and he was no longer cruel to the younger children, refocusing his energies on being noticed as a worthy apprentice. "It's Master Qui-Gon Jinn!" Jac was three down from Obi-Wan, toward the deeper end of the pool because of his height. He was visibly taut with excitement. "Perhaps he'll choose a new padawan in spite of himself."

Obi-Wan looked up. He knew all the regular inhabitants of the Jedi Academy now by sight, and had memorized their accomplishments as a part of his classes. Qui-Gon was indeed a Jedi Master, one without a padawan. His most recent padawan learner had been M'Sut. Obi-Wan felt his heart well with sympathy for the man. He too had grieved when M'Sut died of a terrible illness that the Healers could not cure. It was said that Qui-Gon had sworn never to take a padawan again. Certainly he had rarely come to the training area in the past three years; since M'Sut's death he only interacted with the students when his duty schedule made it necessary. But the Council had decreed that all Masters present in the Academy must participate in training the young Jedi, and here he was, in accord with their decree.

Obi-Wan hesitated, noticing that Qui-Gon's face was hollow-cheeked, his eyes piercing but distracted in their sadness. The Master surveyed the pool without much interest, then moved to the lifeguard's position. He wore an absorbent white robe over bathing shorts. He was perfectly dry, even his feet, and he wore twisted rope sandals. Obi-Wan had never seen him enter the pool. He had often wondered at that. The only other Jedi he never saw swim or teach a class that required him to enter the pool was Master Yoda. Perhaps Master Qui-Gon could not swim. Gazing at the man, Obi-Wan was suddenly convinced that he was right. He stared at the Jedi Master, shocked. That was ridiculous. Surely all Jedi would need to know how to swim!

"Let's race, five laps to show him what we can do!" Shara hoisted herself from the pool, water pooling around her bare feet. Obi-Wan didn't respond to her, but Jac fairly leaped from the pool to stand at her side, and the others joined them. Slowly, Obi-Wan moved to join them, feeling his eyes linger on the desolate Master who stood on the opposite side of the pool.

"Hurry, Obi-Wan," Don'Ca urged him, reaching a hand toward his old friend and helping him from the water. Obi-Wan shook himself, glistening droplets flying. Something in his heart still tugged sympathetically toward the current of pain that moved the Force about the silent man on the other side of the pool.

"GO!" Jac shouted, and the class plunged into the water. Obi-Wan started himself from his reverie and followed them belatedly.

His body sliced through the gelid water like a knife, and he felt the sensation of swimming overwhelm him. He loved his sessions in the pool, and not merely for the partial release from the tug of gravity. Obi-Wan also liked to swim, and while he didn't really like the cut-throat competition of the races, he always joined in. This time the race was even more pointless than usual. What did it matter who won? Jac was fooling himself if he thought Qui-Gon Jinn would choose him for a padawan. Qui-Gon didn't want a padawan. There was no point in struggling to please him. For once, Obi-Wan could relax and enjoy the race without worrying about the victor.

Placid, calm, Obi-Wan stroked through the water, hardly noticing the stiff resistance of its texture or the buffeting of other struggling bodies around him. The water seemed to part especially for him, letting him through without the normal resistance. He breathed smoothly, felt the edge of the pool at his fingertips, then beneath his heels as he reversed, swift as an eel. There were more powerful swimmers in the class, but Obi-Wan could turn faster than anyone, and glide further from his push. He broke the surface, tasting sweet air, arms pistoning. The joy of exertion! Obi-Wan smiled into the water and swam, never bothering to look about himself, at peace with his body and with the Force. Two... Three... Four... Five.

Lazily, he opened his palm and slapped the edge of the pool, finally lifting his head, feeling as though he were awakening from a trance. He glanced around to see how the others had placed--and discovered that his nearest competitor, Jac, was still churning his way toward the edge from half the pool's length back.

"The winner," Qui-Gon announced. Coming down to one knee, the Jedi Master caught Obi-Wan's hand and lifted his arm, proclaiming the victory. Bewildered, Obi-Wan let his eyes follow his arm up, met the satisfied half-smile of the Jedi Master.

"I won?" He blurted.

"You did indeed." The smile stretched a little wider, and Obi-Wan felt his own mouth tug itself into a disbelieving grin, one that deepened with additional satisfaction as he sensed the sadness he'd felt in the older man being eclipsed by his moment of sharing Obi-Wan's accomplishment. "By three-quarters of a lap." He lifted the young student easily by the arm, depositing him on the edge of the pool. "The Force is with you, young--"

A sudden yelp intruded on the moment, and Obi-Wan whirled, feeling panic. Don'Ca! Never the strongest of swimmers, his friend had expended every ounce of his energy in a desperate effort not to come in last. He was in trouble, reaching out to Obi-Wan in his moment of anguish. A cramp. His leg muscle tying in knots, Don'Ca panicked and could not stay afloat. His Rodian physiology made him not so naturally buoyant as a human.

Without hesitating, Obi-Wan knifed back into the water, rushing to Don'Ca's aid, reaching out with the Force and feeling his friend take a lungful of gelid pool water. "I'm coming," he projected to his friend, stretching out his arms, his fingertips finally brushing against Don'Ca's skin. He began to dive after his rapidly sinking classmate, but even as he did, he felt the Force wrap about him, lifting him, lifting Don'Ca. They emerged together from the water and were carried, dripping, to the edge of the pool. Qui-Gon stood quietly, arm outstretched, the remainder of the class now ranged along the pool's edge by his feet, staring open-mouthed at the spectacle of the Master's power. Most of them could lift little more than a pound at this stage in their training. Some could not hold it after they had lifted it.

Obi-Wan felt horribly sheepish. Of course. That was what the Jedi Master was there for. His puny trainee heroics were not needed. He wished Master Qui-Gon had left him in the pool, so he could dive to the drain and climb down into it, burying his shame so deep it would never come back up.

Instead, Qui-Gon lowered the two gently to the plascrete surface of the pool deck. "You have been trained in what you should do," he prompted the mortified Obi-Wan, who hurriedly recalled himself and flipped Don'Ca over onto his belly, pressing the heels of his hands over his friend's ribs, helping him cough up the water he had swallowed and drawn into his single lung. His hands trembling, he checked Don'Ca's pulse, trying to center himself in calm so that he could use the Force to sense Don'Ca's life functions. His friend was breathing, he could tell that much, but he was so shaken by distress and shame he could not focus further.

Master Jinn knelt, his elegant hand smoothing over the cramped leg. Obi-Wan felt Don'Ca sigh with relief as the cramp released. Qui-Gon placed his palm over Don'Ca's forehead, performing the analysis that Obi-Wan had not. The Rodian stirred restlessly.

"He'll be all right," the Jedi Master stated calmly, raising his eyes to Obi-Wan's. "What you did was dangerous, but it was done well," Qui-Gon commented softly, turning his blue gaze on the nervous trainee. "If I had not been here, your prompt response could have made the difference."

Obi-Wan blushed, feeling his throat close at the praise. He did not know what to say.

Qui-Gon rose. "Go to the showers. I will take Don'Ca to the healers." He gestured to one of the older padawans who had approached to investigate the unusual event. "You will watch the swimmers until I return," he ordered. Lifting Don'Ca with the Force, Qui-Gon calmly moved away.

\--OBI-WAN: FIFTEEN YEARS--

Obi-Wan flipped his padawan's pigtail over his shoulder, then buckled the weighted belt around his waist and sank to the bottom of the pool in the lotus position. Master Qui-Gon was visible through a haze of ripples, keeping a watchful eye on his padawan. The presence of his mind was a comfort to Obi-Wan; at the first sign of distress in his student, Qui-Gon would release the belt and raise Obi-Wan to the surface as he had done five years ago for Don'Ca.

It had been a long three years, filled with their share of uncertainty and even pain... but also filled with good times. Obi-Wan calmed his mind. If not for the race, and for Don'Ca, he might never have caught his Master's eye. He was glad that he had. Qui-Gon was all a padawan could ask for in a Master. he was patient but stern at the appropriate times, attentive and forever giving of his time and compassion, sympathetic but demanding. Obi-Wan had quickly learned to trust his Master totally. He rejoiced in the simple bond of friendship and respect that grew between them as they interacted. He had never realized how empty his emotional life was until he had come to know Qui-Gon Jinn. Now he understood his own sacrifice in having given up a family, but it was no longer sacrifice, for in Qui-Gon he had an unconditional friend and ally as well as a mentor.

Kenobi crossed his legs and sat on the bottom of the pool, sinking into the meditative trance, slowing his breathing. He must hold his breath for five minutes to pass this test and please his Master; escaping into the Force was the only way he could do so. He filled his mind with peaceful memories.

 

Obi-Wan had been startled when Qui-Gon appeared in the barracks one evening not long after Don'Ca's accident, holding towels and two pairs of bathing shorts. The Jedi Master had politely requested Obi-Wan come with him, and Obi-Wan had been astonished when Qui-Gon led him to the private pool used for relaxation by full Jedi and Jedi Masters.

"Your perception serves you well, trainee." Qui-Gon had turned to face Obi-Wan, face and voice mild. "I cannot swim."

Obi-Wan stammered a red-faced excuse for the mental intrusion, and Qui-Gon waved it away. "You are not responsible for the lack in my training or for having sensed an unguarded thought." His narrow lips curved in a faint, wry smile. "Nor are you responsible, at least at this age, for failing to shield your perception or your amazement at my lack of knowledge from me." He paused, sizing Obi-Wan up narrowly, visibly deciding how to proceed. "I grew up on a starship; I was not trained at the Academy," he explained. "Your courage and your mastery of the water have impressed me. I ask that you teach me to know the water as you know it."

Obi-Wan's eyes grew wide, discomposure battling with disbelief. "Master! I..." his voice cracked, and he fell silent, blushing to the roots of his hair, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. He stared up at Master Qui-Gon, his confusion and embarrassment complete.

"You are growing into a man," Qui-Gon explained. "If you were not, you would not have won the race. As you grow older the Force will respond to you more strongly than it has done before. It will begin to respond to you, and you to it, as happened during the race." The slow curving of his lip was barely there, but it was as eloquent as a wide smile on another man-- it warmed Obi-Wan with a feeling of acceptance, and the boy forgot his embarrassment. Qui-Gon continued. "And I have decided I am man enough to admit my ignorance. Shall we begin?"

Mute, Obi-Wan nodded. He preceded the older man into the pool.

Somehow, he had known Qui-Gon was his Master the moment he began teaching his elder how to float. Qui-Gon simply followed Obi-Wan into the water and gave himself over to the boy's care without reservation. Looking down, feeling the older man's long hair streaming gracefully against him in the water as he supported the Jedi Master's form on the reassuring but frail platform of his slender, outstretched arms, Obi-Wan felt his very soul touched and altered by the trusting peace on Qui-Gon's face. He had felt his future unfold before him, and understood its rightness. Without hesitating, he set his foot upon the path.

"Put your head back, Master," he said simply. "I'm here."

It had taken long months and some tense moments before Qui-Gon had healed enough from the pain of M'Sut's death to accept Obi-Wan officially as his padawan, but it seemed the entire Academy had known, as had Obi-Wan, from that night onward. Perhaps Qui-Gon had also known in his heart of hearts. Obi-Wan would have to ask him one day.

 

His lungs finally beckoned, and Obi-Wan pushed off the bottom of the pool, his head breaking the surface. Qui-Gon stood overlooking him, tapping the chronometer on his wrist.

"Seven minutes, Padawan." Obi-Wan could feel his Master's warmth accompanying the compliment. "That is a difficult skill for one so young to master. I was starting to worry."

Obi-Wan grinned, wiping water from his eyes. "I've had a good teacher."

\--OBI-WAN: EIGHTEEN AND A HALF YEARS--

The pool was much colder, and the water was thicker here, too, just as he had guessed so long ago. Wearing weight belts that held them to the bottom of the deepest end of the pool, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan both swung staves made to simulate lightsabers. Qui-Gon's hair flowed out behind him, the graceful motion threatening to distract Obi-Wan. The water distorted color, making his face seem bluish. Obi-Wan forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand, watching his Master intently, reaching out to sense the Jedi's next move.

It came faster than sight, but Obi-Wan's practice saber was in place to block it, the swift cutting motions precipitating bubbles that rose to the surface. He was at his best fighting Master Qui-Gon, perhaps because of their instinctive understanding, the Force-bond between Master and padawan apprentice. Sometimes even if he wasn't perfectly in touch with the Force, Kenobi could anticipate his Master's attacks merely from his knowledge of the man's fighting style, or from watching his eyes.

The latest attack parried, Obi-Wan let himself smile with triumph, but he was forced back on his heels as more attacks followed, Qui-Gon advancing relentlessly. He had all he could do to parry the ferocious attacks--and that without breathing!--but somehow he kept up. Then the slippery tiles at the bottom of the pool betrayed him, and he fell. Looking down, he found the tip of Qui-Gon's practice saber at his throat, as he knew he would. He struck it away, but the kill was fair and he nodded. Qui-Gon pointed upward and Obi-Wan kicked off the bottom of the pool obediently. They rose to the surface together, unbuckling the weight belts and pushing them out onto the edge of the pool.

The young padawans were applauding Qui-Gon's victory, gazing down at him and at Obi-Wan with rapt worship, looking forward to the day when they too would practice the saber against the water-resistance of the pool. Obi-Wan wanted to make a graceful remark about his defeat, but when he turned to speak, the sight of his Master stole his breath in a way that their practice hadn't.

Qui-Gon's muscles tautened as he lifted himself from the water to sit on the edge of the pool. Water sluiced over his gleaming shoulders, his wet hair plastered along his back. He began to stretch unselfconsciously, easing limbs that had been taxed by the workout.

Obi-Wan realized he was staring, and ripped his eyes away. He was glad that the workout had given him an excuse for heavy breathing. He had never admitted to the fact that he found his Master exquisitely beautiful, but it was true. He wasn't quite sure how it had come to pass, but just a few months ago, he had realized abruptly that his emotions for his Master were changing somehow. He remembered having sneaked a few curious peeks at his Master in the showers when he was first apprenticed to Qui-Gon Jinn, exhibiting a child's natural guilty curiosity about what an adult body looked like. But this was different.

He had been laughing and chatting with his Master in the showers after a workout, unselfconsciously soaping himself and sputtering under the stream of cool spray, and had looked up to ask a question about a parry he had missed when Qui-Gon had bent slightly and thrown his hair forward over his face, exposing the flex of his shoulders and arms. Obi-Wan's heart had simply stopped beating and rose to choke his throat. He had stood paralyzed with shock, enraptured by the spectacle of his Master's form. Suddenly aware of a raging hard-on, he was barely able to recover himself in time to turn his back and duck under the shower spray and resume scrubbing, before he was well and truly caught.

Oh, no. Obi-Wan realized that had been the wrong memory to indulge! Perhaps it would be good to remain with his belly to the wall of the pool for the moment. The chill of the water, which was positively cold here at the deep end, would help, too, but it wouldn't explain the rosy flush that was tinting his cheeks. To hide his embarrassment he ducked himself, blowing and puffing as he rose to the surface as he had seen the girls do when they wanted to slick back their hair to appear attractive for him.

Obi-Wan had endured a great deal of soul-searching since that illuminating moment. It had helped that Qui-Gon had almost immediately been called away for a few weeks on an assignment that was too delicate for the insufficiently-trained Obi-Wan to accompany him on. During Qui-Gon's absence, Obi-Wan had wrestled with himself (sometimes literally) and come to a nervous truce with his newfound revelation. He loved Qui-Gon Jinn--not only as a pupil, but as a man. It was a natural reaction, but an inappropriate one given their student-teacher relationship. He must not allow his emotions to cloud his reactions, must not permit them to destroy the bond he had with his Master. So he had hidden his desires, indulging them only rarely and in secret. Perhaps when he became a full Jedi, he might open himself fully to Qui-Gon at last. But for now... for now, it seemed he was doomed to silent suffering.

The next Master and padawan team approached, and Obi-Wan embraced the distraction gratefully--until he realized who stood before him. Damn--more problems! Sometimes he was convinced that sex had been invented just to torment him.

He understood that the female padawans found him intensely interesting. It made him intensely uncomfortable, for he only had eyes for his Master, and did not know how to respond gracefully to the women's overtures. Everyone assumed he was holding a torch for some lucky girl, and only lacked the courage to speak. Well, they were half right, anyway. Obi-Wan lifted his elbows and braced gloomily on the edge of the pool, ensuring that his line of sight didn't include Qui-Gon's lithe body, and taut, compact musculature--or the legs of Shara, who was moving closer by the moment. She was sure to greet him, and he was in no condition to make suave small-talk!

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's warm tones embraced his apprentice with sympathy and acceptance. "Next time you'll be ready, and you won't slip." He slapped the boy's shoulder lightly, sending an involuntary shiver through him. "Don't stay in the pool until you grow chilled," Qui-Gon advised, standing and extending a hand to help Obi-Wan climb out.

The boy frantically cursed his impending erection, trying to muster physiological control even as he had to reach to accept the hand and was hoisted from the water. The merciful towel was ready and waiting in Qui-Gon's free hand and once again Obi-Wan had to wonder how much his Master sensed and understood, or how much of his considerate gesture was mere coincidence. He pretended to sponge at his chest, the drape of the towel conveniently arranging itself in loose camouflage.

"When did you manage to get a sunburn, Obi-Wan?" Shara moved to his side, looking at his face with concern. "Just look at you." Before he could stammer a response, her fingertips were on his cheek, and he felt the healing Force emanating from her. "You don't want skin cancer," she chided him gently. Shara was one of the girls who was most interested in Obi-Wan, to Jac's irritation. She had not gone out of her way to display her interest, but she had made no secret of it either, interacting with him with a graceful appreciation that made the other girls' pursuit of various padawans seem stupid and clumsy.

Obi-Wan glanced guiltily at Qui-Gon and met an intense blue gaze. His Master was carefully observing the dynamics of his reaction to Shara-- Obi-Wan abruptly understood that Qui-Gon thought she was the source of the embarrassing physiological response. Worse, he knew Shara could probably sense his arousal and he knew she would think it was about her.

Sure enough, her slight smile was too radiant, her eyes as deep as the pool Obi-Wan had just exited. He gulped nervously. "Uh... thank you, Shara. I'm sure I'll be fine now." He tried an awkward smile, stepping back slightly from her.

Shara nodded, ignoring the fact that he was, if anything, even redder than he had been. "I'll see you at dinner, Obi-Wan." She joined her Master in the pool, her graceful form cutting the water with barely a ripple. Obi-Wan nearly fainted with relief, and then realized the impact of her final words. He could have groaned. He was nearly stumbling as he beat a hasty retreat, his Master following.

When they achieved the relative privacy of the shower room, Obi-Wan slowed and let Qui-Gon catch up. His Master's amusement was evident. He draped a dripping arm over Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Don't worry, lad. She hadn't arrived yet when I defeated you so ungraciously."

Obi-Wan almost groaned again at the sensation of his Master's skin against his own. He could sense his Master's life-Force so keenly! He had to step away before Qui-Gon could sense the truth. "Don't worry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice was soothing. "I don't think you'll have any trouble with Shara. She's quite fond of you. I think that if you care for her you'll find you won't lose a thing just by saying so."

Obi-Wan flopped onto the dressing bench and looked up helplessly to meet his Master's compassionate gaze. "But..." all the words were there, they simply wouldn't--couldn't--come out of him. He buried his face in his hands. "I don't care for Shara," he mumbled. That admission was all that he could bring himself to make.

His Master paused, thinking, the supportive Force never faltering as it flowed from him and wrapped soothingly around Obi-Wan. "Then you should let her know that," he advised. "Let her know that if she wants more than a physical relationship with you, then she should move on."

His damned arousal! Obi-Wan felt despair. Qui-Gon thought he wanted Shara without love. A logical conclusion, he supposed.

Qui-Gon was continuing, distracting him from self-pity. "Love and sex are natural parts of the Force. But they too can foster the Dark Side. It is best to be honest with yourself and others about them. Where communication fails, the Dark Side finds its foothold. In the absence of honesty, resentment grows."

Obi-Wan heard a rustle, knew it meant his Master was unclothing himself, preparing to enter the showers. The very sound of it was maddening. Obstinately, Obi-Wan refused to move his hands away from his face. "I... love another," Obi-Wan heard himself utter woodenly, and sensed Qui-Gon's approving nod.

"Then you should let the other you speak of know your love," his Master said simply. After a long moment, his footsteps receded and were finally lost in the hiss of the showers.

At last Obi-Wan lowered his hands, staring at the wall hopelessly. Now matters were even worse--Master Qui-Gon's advice was good, he had no doubt--but unless his master was a hypocrite, Obi-Wan was now certain that his love for Qui-Gon was not reciprocated. He could have wept.

\--QUI-GON--

Young Obi-Wan's blushes gave so much away that the boy would have preferred to hide! Qui-Gon shook his head. The young man would learn to control them in time, but his Master was not sure whether that would really be an improvement. He found Obi-Wan's youthful honesty refreshing, and worse, Obi-Wan's helplessness and inexperience in the face of his own needs was almost unbearably enticing. Qui-Gon wanted to soothe and protect him, wanted more--wanted the curve of the young man's smooth body nestled in his own. His own physiological control was much more complete than Obi-Wan's, but he could not deny that his padawan tested that control on a daily basis. Now that he was grown, Obi-Wan was nearly irresistible. He had lost none of his childish optimism as his body had matured.

He wanted to teach Obi-Wan not to fear his own body, needed to be the one to teach his apprentice how the Force could enhance a bond of love, both physically and psychologically. But Obi-Wan had ignored Qui-Gon's latest promptings, had accepted his leading advice in silence, failing to respond after Qui-Gon had overstepped nearly all the boundaries of propriety by removing his clothes and practically inviting the young man to make a declaration, if there was one to be made. Qui-Gon knew the depths of trust Obi-Wan held for him. He could not believe his apprentice would be so insecure as to let fear stop him after such an open invitation. Had he felt as his Master did, surely Obi-Wan would have responded.

He sighed, putting his face under the stream of the shower and scrubbing shampoo through his short, wiry beard. Obi-Wan did not join him in the showers. Qui-Gon had suspected he wouldn't. The boy had become shy as his maturity overcame him. A natural response to changing self-image--at least, Qui-Gon devoutly hoped it was only that. He would never forgive himself if the boy was avoiding him because he had sensed his Master's desires and feared them. He had seen apprentices, both male and female, irrevocably damaged in soul by Masters who could not control their desires. Obi-Wan would not become one of them. He could easily take Qui-Gon's advice and apply it to whichever of the girls--or even of the boys, Qui-Gon thought wryly, trying to suppress a pang of jealousy--he had chosen. Then Qui-Gon would know for sure, and could try to proceed without the love he had hoped for from his apprentice--a love he should never have let himself begin to hope for.

But this was not the time for musings that might lead his mind down forbidden paths. He quickly rinsed his body and turned the shower off and retrieved his towel. Obi-Wan slipped unobtrusively into the washing alcove he had vacated, and the shower started. Considerately, Qui-Gon resisted the temptation to peek. If he had, he might have been startled to find Obi-Wan stealing an appreciative glance of his own before regaining his control and resolutely turning to the wall.

Qui-Gon dressed himself, still meditating on the problem. Obi-Wan had given him back a part of his soul after M'Sut's death, a part he had given up hope of ever touching again! Obi-Wan had filled that void, and more. In so many ways he seemed a symbol of Qui-Gon's own youth. He was so open, so optimistic. His earnestness and innocence had brightened Qui-Gon's days more and more as the years passed, until he could not imagine himself existing outside the young man's sphere of energy.

Obi-Wan had become so responsive and in tune with his master that sometimes he seemed almost like an extension of Qui-Gon's own mind and body, anticipating and complementing his Master's every move, a perfect companion to Qui-Gon in nearly every way. Obi-Wan had given himself to the relationship so wholly that Qui-Gon had begun to suspect that boy might entertain more than a simple student's admiration for him.

The thought had been like cool water to a man dying of thirst. Qui-Gon hadn't realized how sterile his own life had been, how unbalanced. Even M'Sut had not filled the void of loneliness in the Jedi Master's soul. Other Jedi had spoken of similar feelings--the life of a Jedi was often solitary, filled with overwhelming responsibility, a monastic seclusion enforced by the awe and fear of those with whom the Jedi interacted. That was one reason Qui-Gon had chosen to stick close to the Jedi Academy, to escape from the perpetual discomfort of those who were not Jedi, once they discovered one in their midst. The thought that he might find a sympathetic soul to share the remainder of his years had been almost painfully beautiful. If only the kindred soul hadn't been his own padawan!

Tying his belt, Qui-Gon stood and moved out into the corridor so that Obi-Wan could emerge from the shower and dress undisturbed. He was so proud of the boy, and so honored by the completeness of Obi-Wan's respect and faith! He would not damage his padawan, regardless of the consequences for his own fulfillment.

 

Sitting and conversing with Mace Windu at supper, Qui-Gon was nonetheless keenly aware of Obi-Wan's presence halfway across the cafeteria, sitting alone with Shara. His padawan's distress was extreme. Shara, by contrast, was utterly composed, even as Obi-Wan mumbled through what Qui-Gon knew had to be a disclaimer and an apology. He could almost see the girl rising and laying her hand on Obi-Wan's cheek sympathetically. Shara leaned close and whispered something in his apprentice's ear. Obi-Wan's mortification peaked abruptly, and then as though he had suddenly remembered he sat in a hall full of mind-sensitive Jedi, his shields slammed down at last, cutting off every last glimmer of emotion.

Qui-Gon risked a peek, just in time to see Shara's lips brush against his padawan's forehead. She turned and gracefully carried her tray away, hips swaying in a lovely rhythm that threatened to hypnotize even Qui-Gon himself, though his attention should have lain fully with his padawan.

"He is young," Windu's voice recalled Qui-Gon's attention. "The young always have difficulty negotiating their affairs." Windu thought Qui-Gon too solicitous, too protective.

Qui-Gon shrugged. "Obi-Wan more than some, perhaps," he commented. "He is insecure."

"Have you spoken with him about this?"

Qui-Gon took a bite of stewed vegetable and chewed for a long moment before answering. "Of course," he responded at length. Windu nodded with satisfaction. Qui-Gon strained his control to the utmost to maintain his attitude of relaxed indifference. What had Shara told Obi-Wan, to embarrass him so? Had she proposed a loveless physical union? Would his apprentice accept? She was a beautiful young woman, and he could hardly blame Obi-Wan if he gave in to her charms. "He'll come through it all right," Qui-Gon stated confidently, though in his own ears, the words had a ring of fading hopes, disappointed dreams.

Windu, oblivious, merely nodded and continued cutting his meat.

Resolutely Qui-Gon turned his full attention on his dinner, though it tasted like ashes in his mouth. Acceptance was the Jedi way.

\--OBI-WAN--

"It's clear to me now who you love, Obi-Wan. You should go to him with your feelings."

Horror flashed through the young padawan. Was he that transparent? He felt as though he had been exposed naked to the staring scrutiny of everyone in the hall--and in a way he was, he realized suddenly. His shields were not in place; he was broadcasting like a beacon! Did he want every Jedi within a hundred light years to learn his secret!!?? Reflexively he withdrew himself, enclosing his vulnerability utterly. They would know he was shielded--he could still be probed, but politeness forbade it. He would have started a calming routine to blank his mind to total unreadability, but Shara was leaning forward, her lips warm on his forehead. She left him with no ill-feelings; at least that much of his Master's advice had stood him in good stead. Now if only he had the courage to carry through with the remainder!

He glanced surreptitiously toward his Master. Qui-Gon blandly forked up a mouthful of whatever it was that had been served for this evening's meal--Obi-Wan had hardly tasted it--and resumed his desultory conversation with Mace Windu. His padawan's faux pas was to be ignored, then, at least for the moment. And from the serenity of Qui-Gon's aura, Obi-Wan knew that no disturbing revelations had leaked to him. Perhaps he had inadvertently broadcasted only emotion, not verbalized thought.

Relief gusted through the young man. So his Master still did not know! Thank the Force. Though in a way it would be a relief if he did. But still... Obi-Wan could not bear the notion that his relationship with his mentor might be marred by his unworthy and unwanted desires. If he lost Qui-Gon's trust and respect, he thought he might simply die.

He stared down at his meal, faintly nauseated by the thought of putting more in his stomach. He needed quiet and space and solitude, to meditate and regain control.

Rising, he took his tray to the disposer and left the room.

At mealtime, there would be nobody in the pool. Though he had only recently come from there, he decided to return. He wanted the insulation of the water around him, needed the coolness to soothe his burning humiliation. He didn't bother with turning on the lights. What he was doing was not strictly prohibited to an adult padawan, but swimming alone was frowned on even for Jedi Masters. There would be no point in leaving such a glaring alert that he was here. Pausing in the locker room, he disrobed down to his underwear and took a breathing tube from stores. He didn't want to be bothered by having to surface for oxygen.

Once he dove into the pool and began sinking down into the depths, he felt himself begin to grow calmer. Away, away. All was remote. There was only the Force, surrounding him like the water. He was one with the water, one with the Force. His eyes closed almost ecstatically.

It had been a hard day.

Obi-Wan moved his mind through his body, seeking and eliminating tensions. Tension clouded the emotions, distorted the living Force. He took a breath. Sliding through his own veins and sinews, smoothing away the knots. Yes. Calm. Concentration.

His mind began to respond to the smoothness of the Force in his body, emotions purging themselves of lingering tension and unhappiness. There would be time to deal with any consequences of his unguarded mealtime later. He could feel the Force, sifting through hazy futures--there were few consequences. None had understood his secret then, save Shara herself. And Shara cared for him; his secret was safe. Good. He sent her his gratitude, felt her responding with good wishes. Another breath.

After a time he realized there was one tension remaining in him, but it did not feel like the turbulent, disruptive energies he had spent time and effort removing. There was something natural here. He formed his will about it, studying it. A part of him melded with the Force here, making his life indistinguishable from the living Force. As he focused on the intersection of himself with the Universe, the Force-connection energized until it glowed in him like a spark.

The tension was the lack of resolution of his love for Qui-Gon, his desires and his needs, formed into a small kernel of repressed soul and restricted into a small, deep pocket of his being where he had shut it away from sight. His emotions were so intense, and the nature of his feelings were so closely related to the wellspring of life energy itself that once he had opened himself to them, they began gathering Force-energy rapidly. Now that he had located this center of energy and opened himself to it, it expanded, rapidly filling him with light. He embraced it fully, becoming the light. It was so beautiful, so powerful. Its energy sang to him in time with the throbbing of his own pulse. Obi-Wan felt his love for Qui-Gon as an intense part of the living Force, overwhelming and undeniable within him. He felt it gathering in him, building, flooding him with exquisite, erotic power.

Objectively, he was very dimly aware that the mere examination of this phenomenon was reflected in his flesh. He was even aware of the changes in his perceptions. The water around him no longer felt cool. The kernel of energy was still expanding, its brightness flowing throughout his veins till he thought he might burst with light. He shifted, the energy exquisite in him, heightening the arousal fostered by his feelings for Qui-Gon. Around him, the water was warming; the energy filling him was vibrating the tiny nuclei of the hydrogen molecules until they warmed in sympathy with him. The feeling was electric; his penis was a lightning rod drawing the living Force to him. He gasped a breath from the respirator, feeling his hand close about his own thick shaft. Surely he must be glowing with the intensity of the heat of the living Force of life within himself! He was a nuclear core, headed for meltdown--

Faint alarms rang in the rational part of Obi-Wan's brain, and he suddenly recalled cautionary lectures about the nature of the living Force. Connecting too intensely could be dangerous. Every reaction requires its equal and opposite reaction. The Force requires balance. What would happen now that he had summoned this concentration of energy? It had no balance--Obi-Wan realized that by nature, the energy he had embraced and permitted to fill him required the presence of the beloved for proper release. He began to panic suddenly. This was not a simple auto-erotic act, it was a Force-overload! Would he simply combust, explode, a miniature supernova of frustrated Force-energy? He must damp this reaction, before it was too late! Control. He must learn control! Calm wasn't enough--this energy had to be dissipated! He could not call Qui-Gon, though--what if his Master did not want to help him? There must be an alternative!

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Bubbles rose around him--the water was boiling! He must have short-circuited the thermal regulator. Obi-Wan unbuckled the weight belt, his hands indenting the softening metal like it was butter, and abandoned it on the bottom of the pool. Kicking upwards, he broke the boiling surface of the pool. Choking clouds of steam filled the air, but the only sensation of heat he could feel was in his loins.

"Obi-Wan?" he was startled by Shara's voice, filled with worry. Of course--she had been in communication with him as he sank away into the Living Force. As the only person he had permitted within his shields since his humiliation in the dining hall, she had probably been the only one who felt the residue of what was happening to him. Obi-Wan scrambled out of the pool and lay gasping on the plascrete. The residue of water instantly evaporated from his body, joining the steam clouds that hung heavy throughout the entire room. It had been a mistake to leave the heat-dissipating buffer of the water--heat was mounting in him, but he no longer had the control to regulate his breathing.

"Shara!" His penis was white iron. "Help me!" He could see her face now, contorted with indecision, filled with a longing of her own. Yes. She could help him, though she was not the one for which he hungered; she could partially channel the release of this Force energy... Obi-Wan stumbled to his knees, holding his arms out to her helplessly.

Shara closed her eyes, her face filling with resolve. "Master Qui-Gon. Your Padawan needs your help!"

\--QUI-GON--

Mace Windu was holding forth placidly on his opinions of whether the Council should ever attempt to influence the Senate when Qui-Gon received Shara's urgent sending. Standing, he excused himself hurriedly, not caring about Windu's obvious disgruntlement at his loss of an audience. Obi-Wan needed him? He had withdrawn from his apprentice to spare Obi-Wan further embarrassment from having his humiliation known. Quickly he reached out with his mind and nearly reeled from the energy he contacted. The raw power of the living Force, magnified through the lens of adolescent sexuality--he knew he had gone instantly, painfully erect, but it didn't matter.

He was already racing from the dining hall, oblivious to the startled stares he attracted. Five minutes to the pool. Damn--he'd never make it in time. What in nine Sith Hells had Obi-Wan thought he was up to, anyway? Hadn't he listened to the lessons about Force-overload? Not that Qui-Gon had ever heard of an apprentice managing to discover this particular channel for burning himself out of the universe. Leave it to Obi-Wan!

"Shara. I'm coming!" he barked. "Please help him if you can." Qui-Gon made the last phrase a request rather than an imperative, but he sensed Shara was willing to do so if need be. Qui-Gon tried to calm himself and add speed to the elevator. Shara was helping Obi-Wan now, but she was not enough. And his own control was fading as he approached his student, impairing his ability to use the Force to speed his arrival.

At last he yanked open the door to the pool complex. Steam billowed out, bringing sweat to his face instantly. Had the fool boy boiled the pool? He pressed ahead through the damp clouds, using his sense of Obi-Wan to lead his steps unerringly.

There, by the diving boards. Obi-Wan lay with eyes tight shut. Shara knelt by him, her hands on his flesh, stroking him gently, soothing the boy, trying to keep him on a plateau, providing an outlet for his energies without increasing them. She was functioning as a conduit for his energy, dissipating enough that he had not yet reached overload, but she was not the necessary vessel for this energy, and his climax was coming in spite of everything she could do to delay him. She looked up, wild-eyed, sensing Qui-Gon's approach. She had to pull her hands away, and Qui-Gon realized Obi-Wan's skin had burned her palms horribly, but she had endured the agony for the sake of his life.

"Go to the healers," Qui-Gon managed to utter, feeling the living Force sizzle into his mind, Obi-Wan's energies recognized him as their natural ground, and arced from the boy's soul to his, releasing Shara from the deadly current. Qui-Gon had no further time or ability to comfort her; Obi-Wan demanded his complete attention. She scampered away and Qui-Gon sank to his knees at Obi-Wan's side.

Shockingly, his student's flesh felt cool to him, and Qui-Gon realized that he had internalized his own share of his padawan's heat, dissipating the Force energies as Shara could not. He realized his robes were smoking, but he did not bother to shrug out of them. Qui-Gon bent to Obi-Wan, flicking his tongue over the straining head of the boy's erection, reaching to merge his mind and soul with his padawan's. There was no time for niceties of foreplay. Gasping, sobbing, Obi-Wan arched, the circuit complete, and surrendered. Qui-Gon took the boy's shaft deep in his mouth as his the energies surged and his padawan exploded--into orgasm, but not into flames. Qui-Gon supported the young man's thrashing body gently, mindful not to injure him with his teeth.

Immediately Qui-Gon felt the dangerous energies begin to ebb, the dangerous crux having passed, the over-agitated energies dissipating, their focus satisfied. He released his beloved student gently, realizing that the floor was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. "Come, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon laughed softly at his own unintentional pun. "The floor is hot." The boy didn't respond, so Qui-Gon lifted him gently, cradling his student in his arms. His padawan was trembling uncontrollably. He buried his face in his Master's neck, his lips hot as he kissed helplessly at his Master's bare flesh. His dangling arm rose to twine around Qui-Gon's neck.

The Jedi Master realized that his own body was bare, his robes incinerated to ash though his skin was unmarked, as was Obi-Wan's. They would have to find clothing. He would have to check on Shara. But at the moment, he had his padawan's bare body in his arms, and his equilibrium was threatened by the most intense hard-on he'd experienced in years.

"Master," Obi-Wan's voice was shaky. His hand rose and twined into Qui-Gon's hair. "I'm sorry, Master!"

"Don't apologize. All that matters is your safety." Qui-Gon set Obi-Wan down on the hard bench in the locker room, but his pupil refused to let go of him, and he had to sink to his knees at the boy's side. The boy had begun to realize what had transpired; already shame and horror were sinking into his brain.

"Stop that!" Qui-Gon commanded sternly. Startled, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and their gazes locked. Qui-Gon leaned forward and wordlessly captured the younger man's mouth with his own. After a time, he sat back, breathing hard. "Didn't I tell you to let your beloved know of your love?"

"But if you loved me, why didn't you tell me?" Obi-Wan protested, clearly feeling betrayed. "I didn't think you felt the same. How could I have known?"

Qui-Gon nodded slightly, trying not to look shamefaced. "It is a rule that Masters must not sexually approach their padawans," he explained softly, moving his fingers along Obi-Wan's strong jaw. "It is one rule that I believe in. Too many promising apprentices have been destroyed by a perceived obligation to please or repay their Masters by accepting unwanted advances. I wanted you to feel the freedom to love whom you chose. I did not want you to feel obligated to give yourself to me simply because I was your Master."

The pain in Obi-Wan's face softened into understanding. "I didn't want to spoil our bond either," he murmured. "You are the most important thing in my life, the only one I love." He lifted his mouth, and Qui-Gon leaned to kiss it, excited anew by the firmness of the young man's lips beneath his. At last he made himself draw away, reluctantly. Obi-Wan lay still in his arms, eyes shut, face rapt. "It is too public here for such gestures of affection," he reminded his apprentice. "We should adjourn to my quarters."

Obi-Wan reluctantly opened his eyes and loosened his embrace. "Master, where is your robe?" he asked suddenly, glancing about.

"You incinerated it," Qui-Gon responded. "We shall have to make do with towels."

Obi-Wan chuckled, a disbelieving laugh. "I did what?"

"I lectured you myself about the dangers of Force-overload," Qui-Gon made his tone stern.

Blithely Obi-Wan reached out, stroking his fingers over the older man's chest, down along the rippled muscles of his stomach, and lower, curling them about the ready erection he found, casting a slightly shy glance up to Qui-Gon's face to ensure that he had permission for the touch. "Yes, Master," he said obediently, his tone rich with innuendo.

Qui-Gon laughed in spite of himself. "Don't think you have to go to these lengths again to get what you want, padawan," he maintained the stern tone, but his eyes were dancing with laughter.

"To what lengths must I go, Master?" Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled up at him, his hand sliding slowly along the firmness of Qui-Gon's penis.

"It is approximately a thousand and ninety-five meters to my quarters, Padawan." Qui-Gon inhaled sharply with pleasure as Obi-Wan bent, touching his lips to the tip of his Master's hardness.

"It is only seven hundred to mine, Master." Obi-Wan offered, speaking slowly between kisses and nips.

Qui-Gon bit his lip fiercely, maintaining control. "Very, well, Apprentice." He reached out, summoning towels to cover themselves with. "Let us hurry."

"Yes, Master!"

\--EPILOGUE (A few years later)--

Obi-Wan enthusiastically hurried to finish his dinner, pausing only for a moment to glance at Shara and Lorcas. The two were holding hands as they ate, awkward though it was. Obi-Wan smiled, sensing Shara's newfound happiness. Don'Ca noticed the direction of his eyes and grinned. "Don't you remember when we were in the creche, Lorcas always insisted she would be his girlfriend? I think he was right."

"Of course he was," Obi-Wan smiled.

"He's awfully glad you're not jealous, Obi-Wan. Everyone was so sure you wanted Shara yourself. You two have had your heads together every time I turned around for years."

"Maybe I'll have better luck next time," Obi-Wan misdirected his friend's implicit inquiry gently. He stole another glance at the shyly happy couple. He owed Shara his life; her delaying tactics had saved him till his Master could arrive. She had been badly burned, but the Jedi healers had been able to save the nerves in her hands, restoring normal mobility and sensation.

Obi-Wan owed her twofold debts, for Shara had indeed gone to the healers that night. However, she had lied about the cause of her injuries to protect him and Master Qui-Gon. In the face of even Master Yoda's questioning, she stoutly maintained that she had foolishly overstepped the boundaries of her training by pressing both palms to a fully-activated heating unit in her quarters in order to test her abilities to disperse heat and sublimate pain.

Obi-Wan had been touched by her loyalty and consideration, for it had spared him considerable ridicule and prevented Master Qui-Gon from getting in serious trouble. He and Shara had grown to be close friends, always helping one another. Obi-Wan had worked with her as she underwent physical therapy, and in return she had drilled him in mathematics and other relatively uninteresting lessons. He had worked with her, giving her extra practice in combat forms, and she had attended official functions with him, sparkling on his arm, sharing his mischievous sense of humor in a warm camaraderie. At last,

Obi-Wan had ultimately mediated the flowering of the new relationship between her and Lorcas, helping the shy boy overcome his feelings of inadequacy enough to approach her.

"My Master is shipping out again tomorrow," Don'Ca interrupted his thoughts again. "I'll miss you, Obi-Wan."

"Master Qui-Gon and I are leaving also." Obi-Wan met his friend's eyes. They met all too rarely these days. It seemed trouble stirred on every side.

"Where to?"

"Classified." Obi-Wan had been instructed not to reveal that their destination was Naboo, their mission to try to defuse the growing danger inherent in the trade embargo. "But we'll meet again."

"Yes," Don'Ca agreed. "May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan."

"May the Force be with you."


End file.
